


Important Day (but not for me)

by LessAttitudeMoreAltitude



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: ABA 'Therapy', ABA Abuse, Autistic Character, Autistic Ezra Bridger, Bittersweet Ending, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Gen, Nonverbal Communication, Poor Ezra does not have a good time in this fic, This is not a Mira and Ephraim friendly fic, but Kanan is the same good dad as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessAttitudeMoreAltitude/pseuds/LessAttitudeMoreAltitude
Summary: “Today’s not just about one person,” his father said. “What we do is for everybody’s freedom.”Ezra knows this day isn’t about him. He can’t be selfish. It wasn’t easy, but he was determined to be the good son his parents want.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus
Comments: 17
Kudos: 145





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically my 'Whumptober' fic without actually using Whumptober prompts lol. I am Not Nice to Ezra in this (well let's be real, when am I ever actually nice to him?)
> 
> Heed the tags. Ezra goes through ABA Therapy in this first chapter, and it is NOT a pleasant experience. I have based the scenes off of people's firsthand experiences and the way my teachers would treat me when I was a child. 
> 
> Many thanks to Astropixie who beta'd this fic and gave me inspiration for the later chapters^^

“I know today is a big day,” Ezra’s teacher said quietly to him, gently leading him towards the cabinets in the back. “But it’s a special day for you, too.”

Ezra just silently gazed in the direction they were walking, waiting for her to explain further. They reached one of the supply cabinets, and the teacher opened one of the drawers. 

“Go on. Pick a sticker.”

He blinked slowly in confusion. He recognized this drawer. Whenever it was one of the kid’s birthdays, everyone would gather around and watch as the birthday kid picked out a sticker. Then there would be a lot of cheering for reasons Ezra didn’t understand. 

But that’s not what was happening right now. All the other kids were working on their assignments (Empire Day celebration posters made from dried noodles), completely ignoring what he was doing with Miss Nao. So what was he doing here?

“It’s not my birthday,” Ezra said.

Something changed in Miss Nao. It wasn’t something he could see, particularly since he was still staring down at the piles of large colorful stickers. He knew it had to do with something he said, and he knew this feeling meant he had done something _wrong_. Ezra moaned and waved his hands in front of him in anticipation of getting into trouble.

Miss Nao knelt down and put her hands on his, trying to get him to stop, but that just made him moan louder. He stepped back from her, hating the close proximity. Thankfully, Miss Nao just sighed. “It _is_ your birthday today, Ezra.”

That didn’t make any sense. Birthdays were something people celebrated at school. There were usually sweets and stickers involved, not to mention loud head-splitting singing. Today was Empire Day. A day Ezra knew to stay quiet about (which was easy) because when he got home, it was a day his parents spent hours in the basement talking about why the Empire was bad.

Miss Nao reached into the drawer and pulled out a sticker, a long brown and black Loth-bat. She pulled off the backing before pressing it to the middle of Ezra’s shirt. 

Ezra hummed and squirmed. The sticker was in the wrong place. Its edges were wrong. And it looked terrible.

Wait, if it was his birthday, didn’t that mean he gets to _choose_ the sticker he wants? He doesn’t want this one. He wanted one with the soft looking Loth-cats. He grabbed one end of the sticker and began to pull it off.

“No, Ezra…” She pulled his hand away and patted down the sticker. Great, now it was even _more_ wrong. Miss Nao huffed, her mood shifting into one that was decidedly more dangerous. “Leave it.” With that, she closed the drawer and stood. “Now go back to your work.”

Ezra moaned and flapped his hands unhappily, but he could stand it for now. He went back to his seat, waiting impatiently for the end of the day where he could rip the sticker off and crumple it in his hands.

Still, he looked back longingly at the drawer, upset at the injustice of it all. If it was his birthday, why couldn’t he choose?

* * *

“Is Empire Day my birthday?”

“Hmm?” His father looked up from the datapad he had been typing on. A moment later, the question seemed to register. “Oh.” Then he sighed. “Yes, today is technically your birthday.”

Huh. So Miss Nao was right. How did Ezra not know that? “How come we don’t celebrate it? Aren’t birthdays meant for sweet things and having fun?”

There was a small stretch of silence, and his parents glanced at each other. Ezra moaned at that, stroking his stuffed Loth-cat insistently. Those looks usually meant Ezra did something not quite right. 

“You know we love you very much, right?” his mother asked.

“Yes,” Ezra replied.

“Today is just a… very important day, sweetheart,” Mira said slowly. “And what we do today is very important.”

She was talking about the stuff they do every night in the basement. The broadcasts that Ezra has been told to never talk about to anyone outside of the family. 

“Today’s not just about one person,” his father said. “What we do is for _everybody’s_ freedom.”

He knew that. He knew that his parents were very important, good people. The Empire made people’s lives worse, and what his parents did in the basement was to fight back. Because, as they say, _If we don’t stand up, who will?_

Still, his mind circled around the sticker Miss Nao had chosen for him. The sweets other kids bring in. The excitement and joy Ezra could feel vibrating off other kids when it was their birthday… 

“We don’t need a singular day to love and appreciate you, darling.” Mira leaned over to kiss him, but Ezra ducked his head and shied away. He hated it when they held and kissed him. It made his skin crawl. 

But that was wrong too, because his mother let out that same sigh that was paired with disappointment and sadness. It made Ezra’s eyes burn, knowing he was causing it. He pressed his lips to his stuffed Loth-cat’s fur with a low moan.

“Why don’t you come down with us?” his mother asked lightly. “We can show you exactly what we do, teach you some of the basics…”

Ezra liked the sound of that. This was important, right? So it was important to learn what they were doing. “I’ll come down,” he said.

He could feel the relief the answer caused, and Ezra was able to relax, knowing he did good.

* * *

Ezra let out a high pitched hum, his eyes squeezed shut and his palms pressed tightly over his ears. The harsh buzz was grating over his nerves, the echoes and feedback bouncing around in his head. It was all like painful needles piercing the skin of his back and arms. 

“Ezra, _stop it!_ ” his father hissed. 

Ezra just hummed louder, curling in on himself and trying to block out the horrible noises. It all just _hurt_.

There were hands gripping his arms, and Ezra screamed and struggled to get away. He just wanted everything to _stop_. 

There was shouting, words he couldn’t understand. Anger and annoyance pierced through his head and made Ezra scream back even louder. He struggled against the painful grip, thrashing and kicking in desperation. 

He was suddenly pushed up against something soft, smothering him as he continued to thrash. His breathing came in quick pants as he cried, trying to scrabble away from the person pinning him to the bed.

Ezra couldn’t breathe, he was going to die, his entire body was going to dissolve horribly, please make it stop, _please make it stop!_

But it didn’t. Eventually his body wore itself out. He was letting out ragged pants as he quietly cried, his limbs trembling from exhaustion.

 _Finally,_ the pressure was gone and Ezra sobbed in relief, curling up in a ball and pressing his palms back against his ears. He could hear voices above him but the words washed over him meaninglessly, like water over stone.

“ _This isn’t going to work.”_

_“It’s only his first time.”_

_“It’s not just tonight. It’s every other_ **_night_** _. We can’t keep going on like this!”_

 _“I know, this isn’t normal… We need help._ ”

* * *

“You want to go back home to your parents, right?”

Ezra had no idea what to do. He was crying quietly, weakly squirming. His skin felt like an overstretched rubber band, his muscles aching and worn out from hours of exercises and struggling. The slightest movement out of line and there were hands all over him, making his panic explode in his chest and mind. If he wasn’t pushed and pinned to the ground, he was strapped to a hard chair. 

Like right now. His wrists were tied down to foam covered arms, and his ankles were strapped to the legs of the chair. For the millionth time, he was certain his chest was going to explode with panic, but of course it never happened. He was just trapped in his unending hell.

_They sent you here to get better._

_Your parents just want what’s best for you._

Burning pain suddenly shot through Ezra’s temples and the sides of his ribs, eliciting a hoarse scream. It lingered, keeping the muscles of his neck and torso painfully tensed until it mercifully ended. 

“Haaa…. Haaa…” Ezra panted, dissolving into a new round of sobs.

“No, _quiet_.” A hand grabbed his jaw and closed it before it pressed over his mouth in an attempt to silence him, but it did the opposite. Ezra lost all sense of control, letting out muffled screams against the rough hand. The hand smelled funky and it was too much, _too much,_ **_too much…!_ **

Then the pain was back.

It was a cycle. Day after day. Isolated in this therapist’s house. The only reprieve from the unending misery was when he was given his stuffed Loth-cat. If he managed to do a good job, the therapist would let him curl up in the corner and stroke the soft fur. But that almost never happened. 

At some point, something in Ezra’s mind broke. He has no memory of when it happened or what in particular had triggered it. He was just so _exhausted_ and hopeless. Annoyance, pity, disgust - and worst of all - _glee_ when he was hurting the most… It all grated him down until he was raw and completely unprotected. Nothing he did was ever right. He just wanted it to _stop_.

So his brain absorbed the sounds. The sounds other people made that meant he should do a certain thing.

“Quiet hands!”

Hold his breath and tense his muscles to keep himself from moving. But not _too_ tense, because then they hurt him again. 

“Match.”

Patterns. Ezra could do patterns. He just had to follow them in a timely manner. He also had to be careful not to do the _wrong_ pattern, but he was usually right. Usually.

“Place.”

Stand next to them. Stand still. Keep his arms at his sides. Press his palms to his pants to keep them from wiggling in anxiety.

“Do this.”

Ezra hated this one the most because he usually didn’t understand what _this_ was. At least, not to the point they wanted him to. It was always something different. Why couldn’t they be more specific? Why did he have to do this at all? And when he didn’t understand, he’d start panicking and moving his hands…

“Quiet hands!”

Even when he did good, he was still _wrong_.

But little by little, day by day, he found the patterns. He figured out the keys to avoid the pain and terror. He wrapped himself in a protective coating and pushed it deep inside himself.

* * *

Eventually, Ezra did get good enough. He got to go home. He didn’t have to wear the wires. He listened to his therapist speaking with his parents, telling them the words and phrases, giving instructions, assuring them that they could always bring Ezra back to the school…

_Don’t move your hands, don’t move your hands, shove it deep down and keep it hidden…_

If he was good, he could be allowed to hide in his bedroom and hold his Loth-cat. That’s… really all he cared about at this point. Quiet, dark, safe with the soft fur.

A part of Ezra was excited. He could show his parents that he was better now. He could be the son they wanted and needed. No longer would he cause problems that kept his parents from doing what they needed to get done.

However, it wasn’t long before he realized with gut wrenching horror that he still wasn’t _right_.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay?”

Ezra opened his mouth, knowing the proper response was ‘Yes’, but his chest seized. When he was with his counselors, he could force out the key words. Failure to do so ended up with touching or burning and _pain_. But right now the idea of forcing out any words felt like pushing jelly through stone.

“Ezra?”

His mother’s uncertainty, always a precursor to disappointment or frustration, was scraping against Ezra’s skin like a grater. The muscles in his arms were starting to seize as he kept his hands quiet. He opened and closed his mouth over and over again, trying to push ‘yes’ out past the stone barrier in his chest.

Instead, it skirted the edges and turned into a groan.

“No, Ezra, quiet,” his father said firmly. “Use your words.” 

Wrong. He was doing wrong. Ezra’s body was starting to tremble uncontrollably. Parts of himself buried deep down fighting to break free but _no!_ Those parts were bad, a problem, _wrong_. 

“Ezra, eyes.”

Ezra forced his head up, directing it towards his father’s voice, but his vision was blurred. Would they hurt him if he didn’t look exactly in his father’s eyes? He was trying, he promised, he was trying…!

There was a hand on his shoulder, and it took every fiber of control to keep himself from shying away, despite the fact that he felt like he was going to throw up.

“Ezra, what’s wrong?”

Everything. Everything was wrong. The same horrible frustration and disappointment radiating from his parents, the thing trying to bubble up inside of him, the feeling of his skin being ripped to shreds, the painful block in his chest and throat… 

_He_ was wrong.

Ezra just wanted to make his parents happy, but maybe that just wasn’t possible for him. His mere existence seemed to do nothing but cause problems. 

He just didn’t fit in anywhere.

* * *

Ezra smiled and hummed as he waved his arms through the air, walking through the tall grasses of the plains. The breeze was gentle and cool. 

This was the only way he could cope. Sure, his parents would be even _more_ disappointed and angry with him for sneaking out and running away _again_ , but it was worth it. Out here, away from the city and people, Ezra felt like he could finally _breathe_. No horrible foreign feelings crawling all up his skin, making him feel sick and wretched. It was just _him_. 

The plains were just so open. He felt like he could stretch himself out, let his arms take up space. He could hum and groan, and the noises would just float away and get lost in the wind. 

He didn’t know how long he was out there for. Usually, it was never more than an hour or so before his parents came looking for him, their panic scraping down his back. It was enough warning for Ezra to wrap himself back up and push it way back down before his parents actually found him.

But that didn’t happen today. It wasn’t until the sky shifted from blue to streaks of red, yellow, and purple that Ezra paused in his reverie. It had still been morning when he snuck out, expecting his parents to find him before lunch. But now it was almost sundown? Why hadn’t his parents come to find him?

Ezra groaned and looked back in the direction of the city, an uncomfortable lump forming in his stomach. His head felt heavy as he tried to figure out where his parents were. Did they just forget about him? Get distracted by their broadcast for the night? It wouldn’t be the first time…

Licking his lips, Ezra slowly walked back towards the city, tucking himself away back deep. Arms still at his sides, no noises coming out of his throat… Keep himself still and good. 

He kept his gaze at the ground as strangers’ bubbling emotions wormed their way back under his skin. He allowed himself to tap his fingers against his thigh as he made his way home.

After Ezra turned the corner to his neighborhood, he glanced up towards his home only to freeze in his place. His eyes scanned over the facade. The image of what he was seeing was bouncing around his head, and yet he was unable to comprehend the meaning of what he was seeing. 

The Imperial Cog.

_Property of The Empire_

_Keep Away_

Deep cracks in the duracrete, paired with dusty looking black marks. 

Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrong…

Ezra got himself to move again. He still managed to keep himself still and good as he walked to his house. He climbed up his usual pipe and jumped into his bedroom. 

He started trembling. His entire bedroom was wrong. It was never particularly neat and orderly, but furniture was overturned and broken, clothes and blankets strewn everywhere.

But what was more distressing was the _emptiness_ of his home. Ezra was still standing by the window of his room, but he somehow _knew_ … he would walk through the house and find nothing but ruin. 

His parents were _gone_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Fourteenth Empire Day, and Ezra makes an exciting discovery

Ezra was nibbling on some dried fruit he had managed to swipe. The texture was awful, but his constant hunger couldn’t just reject it outright. So he took tiny nibbles that managed to bypass the textures so he could actually swallow it down. By the end of the day… well, he wasn’t doubled over in pain, so that was something.

Maybe on another day, he would have risked dipping into the city for something more palatable. But not today. It was Empire Day.

_(his birthday)_

So crowds and emotions were so thick, Ezra was willing to starve to avoid it. Frankly, he’d rather scratch off his own skin than try to brave the celebrations.

_“What we do today is very important.”_

But not him. He was never important. He wasn’t good enough. Wait, no, that was selfish. Prioritizing his stupid _birthday_ over the suffering of so many in the Empire’s reaches.

(He hates how hollow it feels).

He had a stick in hand, digging lines through the dirt. Wouldn’t it be nice to mean something? For someone, anyone, to look at him and decide he’d actually be okay to hang out around.

Flashes of the Loth-cat he tried to befriend flashed before his mind. He gave it treats, touched it gently… but that wasn’t enough. It had run away from him, and no matter how much food Ezra put out, it never came back. 

Who was he kidding? No one wanted to be near him. He was Wrong. He wasn’t worth being around. 

He was hanging out in the plains, staying in proximity to his tower. He had been lucky to find this place, safe and far away from the city. It had all sorts of broken arrays and parts for him to fiddle with. It was something to focus on when he was too overwhelmed to go to the city to get supplies or food. It helped distract him from constant gnawing hunger. And he even figured out how to adjust electronics so that they didn’t constantly screech in his ears.

Ezra groaned, flapping his free hand as he continued to nibble on the fruit. He was trying not to think too much about his life. 

Always alone.

_Always alone._

**_Always alone._ **

Carved into every corner of his tower and in every nook of his mind. He knew it was what he deserved. He didn’t fit Right with other people no matter how hard he tried. He just wasn’t good enough. 

Then some high-pitched roaring overhead indicated the descent of some ships. Normally Ezra wouldn’t have even noticed, but it was so low in the atmosphere that he couldn’t help but look up with its volume. It was a diamond-shaped freighter being chased by a TIE fighter. The fighter was showering the freighter with green bolts. 

Then something dislodged from the freighter, falling to the planet’s surface with a trail of smoke. Ezra hummed, tracking the trajectory. Whatever had fallen was undoubtedly damaged, but there were probably some parts he could salvage. And luckily, it was nowhere near the city. 

Tucking the dried fruit into a pocket, Ezra jogged in the direction of the wreckage. He was already wearing his trusty backpack with his tools. Hopefully it was cooled down enough by the time he got there, he could rip right into the parts and take what he wanted. Even just scrap metal could be exchanged for some creds he could use.

The wreck had burrowed itself into the ground, making a crater. Ezra hummed as he climbed up the edge of the crater and looked down into it.

He raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t just a bit of a ship. It was a _droid_. It must have been doing repairs on the ship during the firefight before it got shot off.

Ezra was humming loudly now, excited by the discovery. He slid down into the crater and looked over the droid, analyzing the damage done and what he would need to do to bring it back in working order. Because droids were supposed to serve and help people. If he could fix it up, that meant having someone around. Even if they weren’t organic.

Maybe this wouldn’t be a terrible birthday for once.

The droid was large and rather heavy, so it took a lot of time and effort to dig it out and drag it back to his tower. In fact, the sky was a blood red by the time he got back. He was exhausted, his muscles aching from the exertion. Thankfully, the lift was functional. It would have taken all night to get the droid up the narrow spiral stairs.

Once at the top, Ezra sighed in relief, as he was able to roll the droid on its own wheels around the balcony and inside. He turned on a light and immediately began digging into his spare parts and tools. The damage was actually relatively minimal. Lots of scoring and damage to the chassis, but it was just the power cell that was truly damaged. Luckily, Ezra had one that he had swiped from a crashed TIE fighter. He should be able to retrofit and adjust the current so it didn’t overload the droid and destroy its central processing unit. 

Ezra hummed in excitement as he got to work. His limbs might feel like jelly after dragging the heavy droid for hours, but he couldn’t wait. He cut out wires and removed burnt components, wondering what the droid was going to be like. The only droids he had ever seen usually worked as mechanics or helped out shop owners. They all seemed nice and helpful. Honestly, the idea of just having another moving body around was nice.

It didn’t _look_ very pretty, but it wasn’t a terribly difficult repair. Once he wired up the power cell, he had to awkwardly push the oversized cell inside the droid before replacing the damaged panel. 

There was a low whir that slowly increased in pitch as the droid powered up. Ezra took a step back, flapping nervously as the droid became aware and looked around. 

Suddenly the droid let out a loud _whaaa_ sound, manipulators extending from its orange dome and spinning around. It seemed upset and agitated, which Ezra couldn’t really blame it for. It _had_ been literally shot out of the sky.

Ezra hummed and waved his hands at the droid, trying to get it to calm down. “I… nnn…” He wanted to tell the droid that it was safe now, but he hasn’t spoken in so long… the block in his throat he hardly thought anymore about was front and center in his mind. 

_This is a problem._

_This is Wrong_.

Thankfully, the droid seemed to calm down on its own, growling and mumbling in a rough binary that Ezra didn’t really understand. He hadn’t been around binary droids long enough to learn the language. Ezra was suddenly very aware that he had no way of communicating with the droid. Especially since he couldn’t even get himself to actually speak like a normal person.

The droid wheeled around the room a bit, looking around. There wasn’t much to see. Boxes of tools and parts, a row of stormtrooper helmets Ezra had slowly been collecting, a pile of old blankets and deflated pillows that composed his bed, and a wall covered in scratched in words. When Ezra was feeling particularly empty, scratching words into the walls made him feel better. It was like his home was talking back to him in a way.

Then the droid started grumbling again, looking at Ezra and jabbing its manipulators in his direction. Ezra bit his lip and moaned, flapping his hands in front of his chest. He had no idea how to respond. He opened and closed his mouth, hoping that he could finally manage to get some proper words out. He wanted a friend, right? Well, he couldn’t be friends with someone if he couldn’t even talk like a person.

But Ezra could only manage a few choked sounds, his chest closing up painfully the harder he tried. He started jumping in place as he panicked. He didn’t have anything to write with, and it would take so long to scratch something into the wall…

The droid made a sound that sounded an awful lot like a tired sigh, making Ezra’s heart pound. He knew what that sound meant. He was doing wrong, he was being annoying… 

That was when the droid turned toward the door, which opened automatically as it approached. Ezra followed behind it, rubbing his arms anxiously. He wanted to grab the droid and keep it here. Even if he couldn't understand what it was saying, it was still someone he could be around. Maybe they could figure out a different way of talking to each or something.

The droid rolled to the railing, turning its dome to Ezra and letting out another string of binary. Ezra’s stomach sank. He couldn’t understand the words, but he understood the tone.

_Nice meeting you (no it wasn’t). Goodbye (I’m desperate to get away from you)._

Ezra yelped as a rocket ignited beneath the droid, the power launching it off the balcony so it could fly away.

Ezra watched despondently, his chest aching horribly. His eyes began to burn but he desperately tried to keep it at bay. There was no reason to cry. He had been so stupid. He really should have known better. It’s not like he actually _knew_ the droid. It had been stupid to hope. 

Selfish. Yeah, he had been selfish. The droid probably already had its own friends. The owners of that freighter. Of course it wouldn’t want to stay with Ezra. He was just a freak who couldn’t do anything right. 

_He looked back longingly at the drawer, upset at the injustice of it all. If it was his birthday, why couldn’t he choose?_

This wasn’t about him.

 _It’s not just about one person. What we do is for_ **_everybody’s_ ** _freedom._

It was _never_ about him.

* * *

“I’m getting a signal,” Hera said, the relief palpable in her voice. 

“See?” Kanan said with a smile. “It’ll take more than a little TIE fighter to take that murderbot out of commission.”

Hera shot him a soft glare as she opened up the channel. “See One Ten Pee, where have you been? Why didn’t you comm earlier?”

Chopper’s indignant blatting sounded out over the comm, insisting it wasn’t _his_ fault, that he had been forcibly powered down all day until his power cell got replaced. 

Kanan frowned at that. “Your power cell? How did you get it replaced on your own?”

Chopper just grumbled about unappreciative organics, transmitting his coordinates for a pick up.

“Looks like he’s at the edge of the city,” Hera said, powering up the _Ghost_. “We’ll be there in five, Spectre Three.”

As Hera approached the rendezvous, Kanan climbed the ladder to the loading deck. Zeb was doing some exercises with his borifle. “Found Chopper,” Kanan stated.

Zeb chuckled. “Too bad. Thought we might be rid of that infernal droid for good.”

“No way. If anything, Hera would find him and patch him up _kounya_ ,” Kanan said, drawling his ryl. “He’ll probably outlive us all.”

“Well, it took him long enough to finally contact us.”

Kanan just shrugged. They couldn’t be too angry with Chopper. While he did occasionally go off on his own little reckless adventures, Chopper had been knocked off the _Ghost_ while repairing the aft engine mid-flight. Under the circumstances, he supposed a bit of leniency was fair. Although he was curious about this power cell business. If it had been so damaged it _needed_ to be replaced, how could he have possibly done it himself?

The ship landed and Kanan pounded the control panel to lower the ramp. As soon as it was down, the droid rolled on board with his usual foul mouth. Kanan raised an eyebrow at the damage. Frankly, Chopper looked terrible. It looked like a bolt had hit him directly, his chassis had a great big hole in it, surrounded by carbon scoring. From the position, there is no way his power cell wouldn’t have been completely fried.

“Karabast, what ‘appened to you?” 

Chopper growled, emphasizing that he had been _shot_.

“Yeah, and how exactly are you still rolling…?” Kanan asked, trying to get a closer look at the damage.

Hera climbed down into the loading dock from the cockpit, Sabine also joining them from the engine room where she had been working on repairs. Hera immediately ran up to him and knelt, looking over the damage. 

“Wow, Chop,” Sabine said, looking over Hera’s shoulder. “I’m surprised you’re still in one piece. Relatively speaking, anyway.”

Hera frowned as she worked open the damaged panel. “You didn’t do this yourself,” she said, gently removing the oversized power cell without disconnecting it. “Where did you get this from?”

Chopper, offended that they weren’t simply pleased to see him doing well, dismissively mentioning a tower and a small human.

“That’s not just a normal power cell,” Sabine noted. “It’s Imperial tech. Not cheap on the black market.”

“Whoever fixed him up is probably gonna be looking for some payment,” Zeb grumbled.

Chopper just shrugged with his manipulators, stating the small human didn’t say anything.

“Small human,” Kanan echoed. “You mean a kid?”

Chopper spun his dome and projected an image. They couldn’t make out the surroundings, but it was indeed a human child. Kanan frowned slightly as he took in the details. The kid was obviously underweight and a bit dirty, his hands curled up against his chest. His eyes were wide and his brows slanted slightly in what seemed to be a mixture of fear and confusion. He didn’t look to be any older than twelve or thirteen.

“Aw jeez, an _actual_ kid…” Zeb groaned.

Kanan watched Hera’s expression. She was still looking over the damage, but it was evident that her mind was elsewhere. Chances were this was a streetrat, and he knew Hera always had a soft spot for orphans. Of course there was no way to take every stray in, but she never could just completely ignore them.

Sabine crossed her arms with a frown. “Why would a kid just give an Imperial power cell to some droid he’s never met?”

“I don’t know, but I’m grateful,” Hera said, standing up. “Could you show us where this kid fixed you up?”

Chopper groaned. _What? Why?_

“Because I want to thank him. He gave up a lot to fix you up with that tech. I figure the least we can do is swing by and see if there’s anything we can give in return.”

“I guess it’s the least we can do,” Sabine admitted. “ _Ori'haatayl_ , the kid could have used the credits. Or at least a decent meal…”

Chopper sighed, reluctantly agreeing and admitting that he felt _fantastic_ with this new power cell. 

Kanan looked out over the plains bathed in moonlight. “Well, we should probably lay low for a couple days after the ruckus we caused. Patrols are going to be on the lookout for the ship, and the last thing we want to do is draw troopers straight towards him.”

“Fat chance finding the streetrat then,” Zeb said. “Kid could be anywhere at that point.”

Chopper hummed, expressing his doubt. The small human seemed to inhabit the tower he woke up in, judging from the array of personal effects.

“Speaking of, did this kid give you a name?” Hera asked Chopper.

The droid just stuck his manipulators out and shrugged. The small human didn’t answer any of his questions or introduce himself, so Chopper just left.

“You mean you didn’t _let_ him introduce himself,” Sabine said wryly.

Chopper seemed indignant at that, insisting that the small human hadn’t said a word. He had just stared at Chopper while flapping his manipulators.

Kanan gave a small frown at that. “It’s possible the kid is deaf…”

Hera’s lips thinned as her brow furrowed, looking pained. Kanan could hardly blame her. Being a street kid on an Imperial-controlled world was hard enough. To be disabled on top of that… it was a miracle the kid had survived so long.

“We can take the _Phantom_ ,” Hera said. “Just a couple of us can go in the morning. Pay him back and make sure he’s in a… relatively good place.”

There was a grumbling of agreement, although Kanan found himself uneasy. The image of the kid loomed large in his mind. Younglings were always the worst to deal with. Usually already traumatized and hardened by their circumstances, there was only so much you could do for them. 

What was even more troubling was that there was a child on his own here on Lothal. They’ve been doing odd jobs on this planet for nearly a year now and it was rare to see people on the streets, particularly for an Imperially controlled planet. Street orphans were practically unheard of. They were usually taken in by fellow Lothali or lived in camps like Tarkintown. 

Everything about this was unsettling. But perhaps after meeting the boy tomorrow, they would be put at ease.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan and Hera go to thank the kid that fixed Chopper up

It was pathetic, but Ezra spent the rest of his birthday crying himself to sleep. He hadn’t cried like that in years. It had just… been a while since he had gotten his hopes up only for them to be dashed so quickly.

Why was he like this?

He woke up the next day to his stomach gnawing angrily at him. He hadn’t been anticipating expending so much energy on his birthday, and he just hadn’t had enough food squirreled away to make up the difference. Now he was paying the price. 

With a groan, Ezra crawled over to his storage container and pulled out a bottle of water. He sat next on the ground as he took small sips. He was running low. At very least, he would have to make a trip to the stream. Too bad he had absolutely no impetus to do really anything. Getting up, eating, drinking… it was all just such a bother. 

There was suddenly a hum at the back of his head. He groaned and batted at his head to try and get it to stop, but it was insistent. It was so similar to the small buzzings that told him Bad Things were about to happen. Pain, touching, screaming…

But this hum wasn’t as harsh. It was actually… pleasant? Ezra rubbed the back of his head in confusion. It was a soft and quiet chime.

Then he heard the sound of an engine. It wasn’t a TIE fighter or any other Imperial transport he recognized. Not that there was any reason for the Imperials to be all the way out here at this derelict tower. It had been stripped years ago, it had only been Ezra’s slow procurement of replacement parts that he got the lights and lift running. 

The fact of the matter was, there wasn’t any reason for _anyone_ to be out here.

Putting the water away, Ezra crawled to the entrance and opened up the door just enough to peak outside. While he could still hear the crescendo of an approaching engine, he couldn’t see anything. It must be coming from another direction. 

Swallowing, Ezra closed the door and curled up against it. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms over his head as he rocked, praying that the ship would just pass and leave him alone. It’s not like he had much of value, although that never stopped vultures from trying to pick him clean in his previous hovels. 

The sound of the engine finally began to go down, and Ezra let out an exhale he hadn’t realized he had been holding, slowly uncurling. It was probably just a wayward ship. Some off-worlder who didn’t know their way around. 

And then there was that infernal hum again, the warm pressure at the back of his head. Ezra groaned and rubbed it. What _was_ this…?

There was a mechanical clang from within the tower, making Ezra yelp and jump up. It took several seconds for him to realize that the lift had been activated. Someone was trying to come up into his tower.

Ezra jumped up and spun in a circle, his brain terrifyingly blank. Someone was coming. Someone was coming. Someone was coming. 

He had to hide. 

He grabbed his bag and his favorite helmet, putting them on before pulling out the biggest wrench he had and running over to a nearby vent. His hands shaking, he clumsily worked the vent open before scrambling in. He was just small enough he could turn around and pull the grate back in its place. 

There was another mechanical clang, signaling the stop of the lift. Moving as quietly as he could, Ezra scooted backward deeper into the vent. This was okay. He didn’t have that much to be stolen. What was more important was that they didn’t find _him_. He would survive having nothing. It was the other horrors he had to avoid.

* * *

Kanan felt the Force tug on him slightly. It wasn’t a warning. It felt… familiar. Like an old friend, almost. He frowned at the sensation. It wasn’t often the Force made itself known without him accessing it directly, which he obviously avoided at all costs. 

He shrugged it off and tried not to think about it.

Chopper pointed into the distance and warbled, stating that was the tower. Kanan leaned forward slightly to get a better look over Hera’s shoulder. It was an old Republic-styled communications tower, obviously abandoned given the rust and disrepair. “Good place to hide,” he muttered.

Hera hummed in agreement. “Well, that probably means the kid could use some extra supplies… It’s the least we can do.” 

There was a discomfort in her voice that Kanan couldn’t ignore. “After checking up on him, we can ask around the city for shelters. Lothal has good services. We can make sure he’s taken care of.”

“Why would he be out here in the first place?” Hera asked earnestly. “This isn’t just a child with a tech hobby. He’s living alone far out from the city, sitting on Imperial tech he must have stolen… It’s not just that services haven’t found him, he must be actively avoiding them.”

“Maybe he’s had one too many run-ins with the troopers. Also, we have no idea what’s going on. Maybe the kid just didn’t feel like talking to Chopper. I mean, can you blame him?”

Chopper growled at Kanan, giving his leg a quick zap. Even though he had expected it, Kanan still yelped in pain and kicked the C1 droid away from him. 

Hera gave a small roll of her eyes. “I hope you’re right,” she said quietly. As they got closer to the tower, she lowered the _Phantom_ towards the ground, eventually landing nearby the entrance to the base. 

When the shuttle opened, Chopper rolled out first and led the way. Kanan was close behind while Hera went through the shut-down sequence. He looked up at the tower. It was much taller than he had originally thought. “The kid dragged you all the way up this structure?”

Chopper made a noncommittal sound, reminding Kanan that he had been _shot_. 

Kanan approached the entrance, noting the busted control panel and slightly askew door. He gripped the small gap in the door and grunted as he forced it open. It actually gave away easily after the initial impulse, opening all the way to reveal the control room. It was dark and dirty. It looked as if it hadn’t seen any attention in years. 

“You sure this is the right place?” Kanan asked.

“It’s the coordinates from Chopper’s logs,” Hera said, securing the _Phantom_ and stepping up next to him. She pulled a light from her belt and turned it on as she stepped inside. Chopper and Kanan followed her in. Kanan noted that the dust _was_ disrupted on the ground and some of the surfaces. 

“Well this section is obviously looked after…” Hera said, looking at the corner of the control room. She pressed a button on the wall, and some lights flashed and a loud clang followed by some high pitched whirring. 

“A lift,” Kanan murmured. That answered his earlier question. 

It took less than a minute for the lift to reach the ground, the three of them filing in. As the lift made the ascent, fear began to rise up in Kanan. Not apprehension or uneasiness… _terror_ that wasn’t his own was swelling in his mind. It was so naked and strong that Kanan gasped, forcing him to push back against it and create a barrier in his mind.

“Kanan?” Hera questioned.

Kanan frowned and pressed a palm to his temple. “Something’s wrong,” he said. The problem wasn’t that the kid was afraid. Strangers were coming into his home, it was perfectly understandable. The problem was that Kanan shouldn’t be able to feel another person’s emotions this keenly. Sure, he could hear whispers on occasion, large crowds were at times a bit headache inducing, but this was as if they were his _own_ emotions. 

Hera’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The Force?” she questioned quietly.

The lift arrived at the top, and Kanan looked out as the door opened. It was nothing but plains right up until the horizon where just the barest amount of the capitol skyline was visible. The storm of fear was no louder or softer now. It was just consistent, with an underlying acceptance and despondence. 

“Poor kid is terrified,” Kanan said, stepping out onto the balcony and looking around for the door to the loft. “Probably hiding…” he said slowly.

“Well, he has no way of knowing who we are. It’s hard to blame him.”

Chopper wheeled right past them, announcing that the kid knew him so he might as well make the introductions. 

“Chop, I’m not sure if…”

The droid opened the door before Hera could finish, wheeling inside and announcing his presence.

“So much for tact,” Kanan mumbled, following him in.

He looked around the old loft. There were some old crates, blankets and pillows, a couple old broken stormtrooper helmets… and words scratched into the wall, over and over again.

_Quiet Hands_

_Place_

_Still Wrong_

_Always Alone_

And then there was a row of violently scratched out words: _Empire Day Birthday Empire Day Birthday_ with the word _Selfish_ scribbled repeatedly all around them.

Hera walked up to the wall, running her hands over the rough aurebesh letters. “ _Ma deesse,_ ” she whispered. “This is heartbreaking.”

It was hard to disagree. It had to have taken days, months, maybe years to write all this out over and over again. Nothing about this indicated the mind of a healthy child. Kanan turned slowly, searching out where the kid could be hiding. Then he felt the fear shifting. Now there was apprehension, sadness, confusion… followed by the sound of a dull thud from a vent in the corner. 

Kanan took a deep breath and tried not to speak directly in that direction. “We’re not here to hurt you,” he said out loud. “We just wanted to thank you for fixing our droid. We know it must have taken quite a lot of effort.”

There was a long stretch of silence. Except he had the Force, so the room was screaming with emotion, shifting slightly at his words (so he _wasn’t_ deaf). They were twisted and muddled, echoing and reflecting, like they were trapped in a mirrored cavity.

Kanan suddenly froze, his stomach dropping. An empath. The boy was Force sensitive.

“Kanan?” Hera stepped up and put a hand on his arm. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…”

There was another thud, this time loud enough to draw Hera’s attention. It didn’t stop, someone obviously crawling through the vent until the grate pushed open. The first thing that popped out was a black TIE fighter helmet, followed by a body that was much too small for it. Clad in a threadbare orange jumpsuit and a large backpack, the boy stumbled as he stood straight, his hands shaking as the helmet looked vaguely in their direction.

Chopper said hello, rolling up to the boy and declaring that they had stuff for him. 

The boy barely reacted except for the barest movement of the helmet. His hands were twisted into the sides of his pants. 

Hera suddenly let out a shuddered exhale, staggering a little bit. It was with growing horror that Kanan realized that this kid was projecting so strongly that even Hera could feel it. 

Suddenly everything had changed. This wasn’t just a normal street kid. He was a Force sensitive, an _empath_. No wonder the kid avoided the city. All those minds and emotions would overwhelm a normal untrained Jedi youngling. For this boy, it must have been agony. 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Kanan repeated, trying to project as much calm as he could while also blocking his own growing panic. “I know you’re scared and confused. You’ve never…” Kanan swallowed. “You’ve never met someone like me before.”

Hera looked up at him with mild shock. Kanan wished they could have somehow known ahead of time to talk this out beforehand, but they were here now. And there was no way Kanan was going to leave behind a child this vulnerable. Particularly when it was only a matter of time before the Empire found him, and the stars only knew what the Empire would do with a Force sensitive empath.

There was a small sound from the kid, but it was muffled from the helmet. The barrage of emotions was breathtaking. Hera had to clear her throat and take a small step back.

“Kid…” Kanan said quietly. “Can you tell us your name?”

* * *

When he heard the droid from yesterday, confusion and wariness churned in Ezra's belly, cutting into his fear. Why would it have come back?

Then he could hear _others_. One set of emotions bumped up against him clumsily as usual while the other was noticeably reserved. But that didn’t matter compared to the fact that people were _here_. The droid had led people back here.

Ezra was silently cursing himself and his stupidity, shaking out his agitation with his hands. He had been so focused on himself, on the potential for a friend, he hadn’t even bothered worrying what _else_ the droid might do once it was powered back up. 

One person seemed… sad? It bounced around in Ezra’s head, making him shift uncomfortably. Like always, the others’ feelings were pricking at him from all sides almost painfully. He couldn’t completely bite back a distressed moan. He hated this, he hated this...

But then the people actually spoke up. They wanted… to pay him back? It wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility. Many transactions on the streets were an exchange of materials or services. But usually if you could get away with stiffing someone, you did. Always look after yourself first. Did these people really come all the way back just to pay him back?

They didn’t _feel_ like they wanted to hurt him. If they wanted to rob him, they would have done so by now. So he figured, it couldn’t hurt to see what they had to offer, right?

Of course, he’s been wrong before.

But it was too late now. He was crawling out, the smallest bit of movement making the vent reverberate with noise. Once he was out, he finally got a good look at the other people. A green Twi’lek woman and a brown skinned human man. It was with strange clarity that Ezra realized the sadness was coming from the woman and the strange hum at the back of his head was coming from the man.

Of course, the moment Ezra entered a room, things always went wrong. He wasn’t sure what he had done this time, but he could tell that the two strangers were upset. It made his chest tighten, knowing full well they could decide to hurt him at any moment. He barely even noticed the droid rolling up to him, blatting incoherently.

_Quiet hands!_

Ezra gripped the sides of his pants, trying desperately to keep his hands still. If these people _were_ going to be nice to him, he didn’t want to immediately out himself as a freak.

The hum got louder, a mixture of horror and shock radiating from the man. There was just something about him that resonated with Ezra. It was like an understanding or a clarity that he’s never had before. Like he was being seen for the first time.

The man took a small step toward him, but for some reason, it didn’t feel threatening. “You’ve never…” There was a pause. “You’ve never met someone like me before.”

 _Like him?_ What did that mean? Ezra’s mind immediately went to everything Wrong with him. The way his body moved, the way he spoke with people (or _didn’t_ ), the noises he would make… But there was no way for this human to know anything about that. Unless the droid told him about it. It wasn’t like Ezra had made any effort to suppress his quirks.

However, Ezra instinctively knew that’s not what the man was talking about. It was the humming, the impulses that helped Ezra avoid blaster bolts and troopers’ fists… _That’s_ what they had in common.

All of a sudden, hope swelled so explosively in Ezra that it made his eyes burn with emotion. He wanted to know this person, reach out and make a connection. He tried to remind himself that it was _stupid stupid stupid_ … and yet… 

“Kid… Can you tell us your name?"

A familiar swelling feeling blocked off Ezra’s throat and cut off his air. That’s right. Normal people connected by _talking_. They didn’t want to connect with freaks. He was Wrong, never able to just be a normal person. 

Ezra swallowed hard. Maybe… maybe he could do it now. Do something _right_ for a change. 

_“Eyes.”_

_“Use your words.”_

His hands shaking, Ezra reached up and took off his helmet. He gripped the black plasteel tightly to keep his hands Quiet, but he couldn’t quite force himself to look up at the man, look him in the eye like he was supposed to.

“My name is Kanan. This is Hera, and the grumpy droid is Chopper.”

The droid turned to Kanan and blatted loudly at him, gesticulating with his manipulator. So it - Chopper - was that way with everyone. It didn’t make Ezra feel any better but it was good to know. 

But now Ezra was _sure_ he was supposed to respond. Acknowledge them. Do _something_ besides rolling back and forth on his feet and bobbing the helmet up and down over and over again… 

Tentative apprehension. _Understanding_. “Hera, do you have your datapad?”

It was said quietly, not directed at him, but Ezra flinched at the words. He didn’t understand them, but when he saw movement in the corner of his eyes, he raised his head just enough to watch the Twi’lek step forward next to Kanan. He squeezed the helmet as he shook it faster, his fingers starting to ache.

There was a soft clatter as a gloved hand put down a datapad on one of the crates. “Here. You can use this.”

Ezra blinked hard at the pad. Once. Twice. It seemed like something important to understand, and yet he couldn’t wrap his head around what Kanan was trying to convey.

“You know how to write,” Kanan said slowly, distant sadness underlying the statement. It echoed the Twi’lek’s own emotions. “Maybe you’d find this easier?”

That was when Ezra realized Kanan wanted him to _write out_ his answer instead of waiting for him to actually make the proper sounds. It was something that had never occurred to him before. 

The helmet dropped from Ezra’s hand, clattering loudly on the ground as he stepped forward and swiped the datapad from the crate. He held it with both hands, taking a moment to just stare at the screen. He remembered his parents using them. They used their fingers to manipulate data or write out notes. 

His eyes burned and his vision began to blur. Right here in his hands was a means to actually _talk_ to people. Why had something like this never occurred to him before? 

“Kid?”

Ezra flinched. Right. He had to actually _use_ it. His hands were shaking, but he managed to scribble out the letters of his name before holding it out, his head ducked down in fear.

Then there was relief and a soft sort of delight that brushed up against his mind. It was foreign and euphoric, and he couldn’t help but whine at the sensation. There was no frustration, anger, or annoyance… He felt like he was dreaming.

“Ezra…” the Twi’lek said, as if trying out the word on her tongue. “Well, Ezra. We owe you a debt of gratitude. Chopper means a lot to us.”

The droid made some noises, with which Kanan gave a tired sigh. “You’re just lucky we need you for the _Ghost_ …”

“There’s a lot we wouldn’t be able to do without him,” Hera said with an edge in her voice.

Ezra pulled the pad back up to his chest, cradling it protectively as the three of them conversed. He was still reeling from the fact that he had actually been able to communicate with them. He was able to tell them his _name_. And they didn’t get angry at him for not actually speaking. 

The humming in the back of his head got louder, but it wasn’t irritating. In fact, it was almost calming. It was like a small gentle pull that had Ezra looking up between up his bangs. Kanan was gazing at him, but it didn’t feel oppressive or judgemental. All Ezra could really sense from the human was a soft warm affection and just a bit of sadness… and fear.

“Ezra…” Kanan said slowly. “Have you…” He noticeably swallowed. “Have you ever heard of the Jedi?”

Ezra had only the barest memory of his parents talking about them. That they had been warriors, generals during the Clone Wars. But now they were all gone. Ezra dipped his head down as he scribbled on the datapad. 

_The Empire wiped them all out._

The sadness swelled slightly, and Kanan gave a forced smile. “Not all of us.”

Ezra frowned, looking Kanan over. Us? As in… Kanan was one of them?

Kanan took another step forward, the man somehow exuding an aura of safety that helped keep Ezra at ease. “You’ve always been different,” he stated quietly. “You know when things are going to happen, you can feel others’ emotions…”

Ezra swallowed down the painful lump in his throat, his grip on the datapad so tight he thought it might crack. He gave a small nod.

Kanan let out a shaky sigh. “It’s the Force. It’s _strong_ in you…” He paused, thinking about something. Then Ezra could feel a sense of resolution from him. Like he had made a decision. “You could come with us,” he said earnestly. “Come with me. I… I can teach you about the Force. About your powers.”

The droid made a noise of surprise, and Hera turned, ushering the droid outside. “Chopper, hush,” she asked sternly. “Come with me…”

Ezra relaxed slightly when the door closed behind them, leaving him alone with Kanan. He was reeling, overwhelmed and stretched out, so their absence was a bit of a load off of his mind. 

There was a moment of silence before Kanan took another step towards him, this time slowly kneeling down. Ezra still couldn’t force himself to make eye contact like he knew he should, but he could see Kanan’s expressions in his periphery. 

“You can feel it,” Kanan said quietly. “When it comes to the Force, nothing happens without a reason. And right now, the Force is pulling us together.”

The Force… is that what this feeling was? The inexplicable familiarity, the humming, the aura around Kanan that made Ezra feel like a _person_ … 

It was stupid to even consider. It was _insane_. This complete stranger just comes in out of the blue, first just saying they wanted to pay him back for fixing the droid, and now was offering to _teach_ him? 

“Ezra.”

He flinched slightly, blinking and looking up slightly, hoping it was enough to show Kanan that he was listening. 

“You’ve been alone for far too long… It doesn’t have to be that way anymore.”

 _Always Alone_.

Ezra twisted his body back and forth, trying to reorient himself and make sense of all of this. He had to wrap his head around the fact that this man was offering to take him in. To save him. 

It was without conscious thought that Ezra took a step closer to Kanan, close enough to feel his body heat. He was trembling for reasons he couldn’t explain. For once in his life, his instincts were clear. They were all telling him to go with this man. That he was Good and Safe. 

He couldn’t have asked for a better birthday present. It was almost too good to be true. 

It _was_ too good to be true. Kanan doesn’t realize just how _wrong_ he is. It wasn’t just his inability to speak, it was the fact that his body didn’t work right, and the weird noises he would make… Even when his parents were around, they made it clear that he wasn’t normal. He was a distraction, a nuisance... something to be fixed. He was Wrong. They tried their best to make him good and right. And Ezra tried his best to repay their effort and suffering by being the son they so obviously wanted.

That had never happened. He didn’t even get the chance before they were taken. If Ezra was going to make this work, he would have to work extra hard to fix himself. It was the only way Kanan would want to keep him around for the long run.

So he shakily dragged his finger over the datapad’s surface, trepid excitement roiling in his chest. 

_What do I need to do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Not exactly the happiest of endings, but one that's realistic and relatively satisfying (if I tried to expand on this any further, it'd become a novel).
> 
> Comments are welcome!


End file.
